


Truth or Dare

by crackalackattack



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crossdressing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackalackattack/pseuds/crackalackattack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trolls don’t have an exact equivalent of the human game Truth or Dare. They tend to have less shame or reservation admitting truths that the common human would consider embarrassing. So most trolls would choose dare, but there are few things that a troll wouldn’t do. The asinine nature of this game is then quickly lost on the more abrasive species.</p><p>But you decided to play anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth or Dare

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a work of art from yoccu on Tumblr that someone commissioned. It's a little kinky, but I don't think there's anything in here that warrants a warning. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Trolls don’t have an exact equivalent of the human game Truth or Dare. They tend to have less shame or reservation admitting truths that the common human would consider embarrassing. So most trolls would choose dare, but there are few things that a troll wouldn’t do. The asinine nature of this game is then quickly lost on the more abrasive species.

But you decided to play anyway.

She had mostly ignored you. The history between you two was short enough that it could be summarized with one word: rejected. During your first conversation, she disregarded your caliginous advances and then destroyed your computer. You were left speechless, then angry and proud, but it amounted to nothing during her absence on Pesterchum. In time, you put the event behind you and forgot about her.

The next time you met was in person, and you thought she looked so… alien. Sure, you had a viewport and could watch the humans at any point in time, but it felt more like watching a show or film. Seeing these fair-skinned creatures in person made you shockingly aware of the differences between your species. The brightness of her hair, the flat teeth, the color in her skin. It was so vivid that you wondered if she just happened to be sick. When you asked her, she quickly identified you and proceeded to brush you off. Your anger began to rise again, but to what avail? You decided to leave her be and focused on the other humans.

Several weeks later, she suddenly took an interest in you. She began asking harmless questions which you answered shortly, hoping that she would leave you alone once her curiosity was satisfied. But it never was, you discovered, as her questions became more personal and intimate. You started to answer with more hesitance and forethought, not wanting to satisfy her anymore. After a particular inquiry about your cape, you decided that enough was enough and promptly asked her to leave. She shrugged and turned away, and you thought that you had gotten rid of her for good.

But Rose Lalonde doesn’t give up so easily.

A few days later, she approached you with a bottle of clear liquid and two empty glasses. She asked if you wanted to try some alcohol. You politely told her no. You’re still not sure how, an hour later, the two of you were working on a second bottle. It was bitter and burned going down, but you enjoyed the lightheaded sensation and warmth rising in your cheeks. You had been making small talk about cultural differences and how fascinated the two of you were with each others species.

Halfway through the bottle, she invited you to a game of Truth or Dare. She briefly explained the point of the game and you, feeling high and mighty and less inhibited than usual, decided to accept. The two of you went back and forth with silly questions and sillier dares. But when you found yourself answering something about Feferi and Lalonde had removed her pants, you suddenly realized that you had no idea what you were doing, or if you even wanted to play anymore. Sure, you found yourself admiring her legs and she gave you a little smirk that could’ve meant anything. And maybe that was it. That smirk. You gave her the dare, and she didn’t think twice to strip down to her underwear. You told yourself it was something to take your mind off of Feferi and all the old feelings that had emerged, and yet you knew you were wrong. Lalonde had taken control of the game. She was waiting on you to choose. During a few moments of silence, with concern etched across your face, she did offer to stop.

But at the end of the game, you still chose dare.

Even as you stand outside her room, the next night, you can’t shake her thoughtful expression from your mind. It was unnerving and invasive and it made you angry again. And you are still in front of her door, taking a deep breath and preparing to knock. You hear her say that the door is open.

You step in and… okay, you weren’t expecting that. The room is fit for royalty. The two sofas are plush and velvet with deep purple shades and gold trimmings. A small glass and gold chandelier hangs from the ceiling, illuminating the room with twelve or so candles. On the opposite wall facing you is a fireplace, the mantel of which is intricately carved to resemble tentacles rising from the ocean and wrapping around the large mirror above it. The fire inside is small and crackling, casting soft shadows across the walls. In one corner of the room, a folding screen with three panels stands, made of a thin purple fabric that you can’t recognize. In the left corner near the entrance is one of the many chests that dot the meteor. Maroon drapes hang over the walls, and you think they look a little too comfortable.

You’re not aware of having stepped so far into the room, but you did and you’re surprised by the door closing. You turn around to see Rose Lalonde dressed in a purple suit with a white cravat adorned by a brooch with an ornamental squid. Her hands are covered in white dress gloves and she’s wearing black dress shoes. Her hair, normally straight, is wavy and slightly curled at the tips. Her usual hair band has been replaced with a black one to match the dark eye shadow and liner that gives her an alluring gaze. She smiles at you, and you suddenly feel like prey cornered by the predator.

You try to suppress a gulp and make a comment about Rose’s continued interest in alchemizing even though everyone else stopped caring. She merely hums and begins to step forward. She tells you to go behind the folding screen and change. Her voice is sweet, almost inviting. It makes you nervous.

You go behind the folding screen and find an armchair. Draped across the back is a one-piece dress of a lighter shade of purple and an accompanying sash. You feel a blush creep into your face as you notice how thin the shoulder straps are, and you guess the dress ends just above the knees. Across one of the arms is a pair of gold bracelets attached to rings via a thin strip of fabric. On the other arm is a long, braided wig that matches your own hair including the tuff of violet in the front. Resting on the seat is a pair of two-inch black stiletto heels with open toes and ankle straps.

You peer at her from around the screen. She shrugs and tells you that you can leave if you want. And for a moment, you really consider it. You can see yourself puffing out your chest, indignant and flushed, stomping out of the room and never speaking of this again. You can see her alternating between ignoring you and badgering you with more questions. You can see nothing happening at all between you two after tonight.

You take off your cape and place it over the screen. Then your shoes, the shirt, the socks and the pants go. You pick up the dress, take a deep breath, and put it over your head. It slips on easily and feels only slightly loose. In fact, it fits your frame well, but the open back makes you nervous. You take the wig next and find that two slits had been made for your horns. It takes you a while, but you manage to slip it on. It feels like real hair and the braid feels weird against your back. You put on the bracelets next, slipping your middle fingers through the rings so the fabric lies against the back of your hand. The heels fit easily, but you stumble on your first step and nearly knock over the screen.

You take a deep breath and step out for her to see, trying very hard to keep your balance. She eyes you up and down, admiring her work. The corner of her mouth lifts and she comments on how lovely you look. You’re struggling now to look her in the eye.

She walks over to the chest, and lying on top is a beige fabric that you didn’t notice before. She picks it up and shows it to you. It’s slender with a wide base. You ask her what it is. She says that it’s a neck corset. You must look indignant because she reminds you that you could leave at any time. You say nothing. She then beckons you in front of the mirror over the fireplace. Your steps are unsteady and your walk seems to last a long time. She matches your pace, watching your every move like a cat with a mouse. You stop in front of the mirror and brace yourself.

Her slender hands work quickly around your throat, securing the collar, and you’re equal parts excited and terrified. Her dare the night before seemed so ridiculous that you didn’t think she would go through with it. But you can’t blame Lalonde. You accepted.

She tightens the collar in the back and fear grips you for a moment as your throat feels constricted. When she ties off the string, the fabric slackens and you’re free to breathe once more. However, you feel an aching sensation developing from the base of your neck and down your back. After a few moments, you realize that the neck corset has you trapped in a particular posture by restricting your movements. You give her a venomous glare and she responds that she isn’t done yet. From her pocket, she removes a slender gold chain that forks out in the middle. At every end of the chain is a small clasp. She turns you to face her and hooks one end to a rung at the bottom of the corset. She then takes each wrist and fastens each fork to a bracelet. She steps back with a critical eye and tells you to give the chain a good tug. You do, and to your surprise the chain holds. Your wrists are restricted to maybe two feet apart. She then removes a tube of lipstick from her pocket and tells you to purse your lips.

You could easily remove the chain. You could probably undo the string in the back of the corset in a minute. You could take off the heels in a few seconds. You could storm out of the room and never see her again. And yet, as she steps in front of you and cups your chin with her fingers, you’ve never felt so helpless and so needy in your life. She begins applying the lipstick, and her thoughtful expression gives you goose bumps. She’s careful and methodical and you can hear your heartbeat in the silence.

She turns you around to face the mirror and you see a flush in your face so bright that it scares you. Your lips are a dark purple, matching her dress. She asks you if you think you look beautiful. You admit it, and there’s a slight tremble in your voice that makes you mentally curse yourself. Her hands creep up from behind and one dances around the corset while the other strokes your cheek. You fervently wish that she would take off those stupid gloves, but you still lean in to her touch. You see her face over your shoulder, and her mouth breaks into a mischievous grin.

She asks you if you want to play another game of Truth or Dare.


End file.
